


Eclipse

by Madtom_Publius



Series: Valley Forge [5]
Category: 18th & 19th Century CE RPF, 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, PTSD, Period-Typical Homophobia, blood mention, thematic elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:00:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6613363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madtom_Publius/pseuds/Madtom_Publius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurens wakes from a night-terror and Hamilton comforts him, which leads down more intimate paths than Laurens was prepared to admit he wanted. Set early in the Valley Forge encampment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eclipse

**Author's Note:**

> The tags make it sound a lot more intense than it is, most of what's tagged is only mentioned or alluded to, but if you have a serious issue with any of it, there you go. 
> 
> It's written as Laurens' stream of conscious so it's first person but he's addressing Hamilton as "you." I know some of you hate that so I'm just going to be upfront about it.
> 
> Originally authored by Madtomedgar.
> 
> Originally posted at: http://madtomedgar.tumblr.com/post/35136884020/below-the-cut-is-a-fic-thing-not-so-brief-this

Oh, God, no…not here…no, not this, not again, no, no…ow. Damn. The horrible dream is quite literally knocked out of my head by the eternally pesky low ceiling, though the smell of blood lingers, as it always does. It takes me a moment to convince myself that the pain in my head is caused by a crack from the eaves and not a musket butt …my heart is racing, my hands are shaking, I’m not entirely sure where I am and it’s a terrifying stretch of time before it sinks in that I’m in my bed in the aide’s quarters and despite my aching brow, I can be thankful that I’ve managed to avoid tears this time. But my poor Alexander, I’ve woken you u. I can’t imagine why you don’t find yourself another bunkmate when you get so little sleep as it is and now must suffer from my ever more frequent shenanigans… you sit up slowly and wrap your arms around me, silently calming my frantic mind as best you can considering the hour, one hand stroking my hair, the other over my heart. I wonder if you know that does nothing to slow it.

“Are you alright?” Your mumble is more lucid than I expected it would be. 

“Yes, thank you.” I doubt I’m very convincing as I’m still trying to get control of my breathing.

You don’t pester me about what sort of terrors were visiting me, you don’t suggest we go back to sleep, you don’t lie down once you’ve satisfied yourself as to my welfare. Instead you curl yourself around me, comfort freely offered but not forced or insistent. I suspect part of the reason only physical gestures have been tendered is that you aren’t quite awake enough for anything else. I’d be more inclined to lie back down if that damn dream wasn’t likely to come back the moment I close my eyes, and no guarantee that I’d be able to wake myself again. What sort of perverse coward am I that I fear sleep but not battle? It’s selfish, but I don’t want to exchange the warmth and contentment of your embrace for what’s surely waiting for me once I close my eyes. What’s always waiting. Still, the moment is far from perfect, what with the pain in my head and the strange butterflies that take residence in my stomach whenever we’re close like this. They only get worse…or is it better…the sensation is far from unpleasant…when you kiss my cheek so softly I’m not certain I didn’t imagine it until I feel the same light touch on the other. Your shyness is puzzling as this has become our standard method of greeting each other…a truly excellent custom, once one has a friend with whom one delights in employing it.

Oh…how ever did your lips wind up so close to mine? I could turn my head the slightest bit and kiss you…what would that be like, I wonder, to kiss that beautiful, smiling, clever mouth…I don’t understand. Why am I thinking that? And what is that feeling in my stomach…like a rock, but not from hunger…I can feel your breath, it’s warm on my cheek…and ragged, the way one breathes when one is faced with a prospect that at once entices and terrifies…the way mine is coming…

I could turn my head ever so slightly and kiss you…which makes no sense,  _ why  _ am I thinking about kissing my closest friend  _ a la francaise _ ,  _ why  _ is such a thought making my insides tie themselves in knots,  _ why  _ can’t I seem to move at all,  _ why  _ is this idea eliciting something other than laughter at its absurdity? And why haven’t either of us turned away? I can feel your lashes brushing my cheek whenever you blink, tantalizingly soft, and how would they feel against my lips if I were to raise them to kiss your eyes… and how has this strain of romance so overtaken me?

You could move your head a fraction of an inch and we’d kiss…the idea of being kissed by you is strangely even more exhilarating than that of kissing you…your hand has slipped into my hair from its previous position on top of it…am I so desperate that I’m starting to have these thoughts about you? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d…gotten confused, but  _ surely  _ that’s all it is, confusion, especially in regards to you, my dearest friend. It’s very late, after all, and there was that dream…would your kiss be soft and timid, like those you placed on my cheeks, or would you be as ardent in that as you are in everything else you do? I’m not sure which I’d prefer.

It would be so easy to find out, all I’d have to do is turn my head…but then I’ve no idea how you’d react if I did. I ought to hope you’d be disturbed by such contact with another man. I ought to be disturbed by such contact with another man. Certainly not thrilled by the thought of it. I wonder if your heart is beating as fast as mine…surely not…your exploits are legendary and this…this is bizarre. For us both to be infected by this most unnerving of sentiments would not be possible. How long have we been like this, hovering just on the edge of a kiss, sharing our breath, waiting for the other to move and end this entrancing suspense? I should lie down so we can go back to sleep, but I’d have to disentangle myself from you, and you’re delightfully warm…and I don’t want to lie down and go back to sleep.

I want to turn my head a just a bit and kiss you. Except I’m unable to move for the strange terror of it all. So really I want you to kiss me, to somehow read my thoughts and understand that I’m oddly frightened of what would happen next if I were to start this, and allow your lips to meet mine…only I know you won’t, because you can’t have any desire to do so. It wouldn’t make sense. You probably haven’t realized the nature of our situation, and you certainly haven’t realized my darker motivations for curling so close to you in the night, motives I prefer to hide from myself.

I could turn my head so slightly and our lips would meet…perhaps you might even think it an accident…or perhaps…no, I shouldn’t have these thoughts, especially not about you. You’re my friend, whom I love and respect, I should be ashamed of myself for even  _ thinking  _ about this, even if you are the loveliest man I’ve ever known…I should lie down so we can both go to sleep, but if I wait another moment, your lips might brush mine, and then…or the spell will be broken and we’ll both return to our senses. One of these will happen if I just wait one moment more. Just one moment more won’t hurt anything. No, I must be keeping you awake, and for what’s certainly nothing at that. Even if I could be content to stay in this suspense forever, you need to sleep. I’ll just lie down then, and…

Oh… oh good, my heart hasn’t stopped. And I’m not imagining this. I’m not sure which of us caused it…was it perhaps both of us? Ironic, that it actually  _ was _ an accident when I’d been contemplating the chances of disguising it as one. The first brush of your lips against mine was exactly like those on my cheeks, only neither of us moved away. And why would I, when your lips are so soft and warm and welcoming? I know quick pecks are acceptable in Europe, and this would have qualified if we hadn’t frozen upon the first contact. Now I’m not sure what it is. My heart is fluttering like a caged bird, flitting between ecstasy and anxiety, the absolute terror of what is happening and the pressing need for this kiss to continue. 

And you haven’t moved away. 

You haven’t moved away, and that alone has given me a boldness I didn’t know I had. I slip a hand into your hair, pulling you closer to me, kissing you the way you deserve to be kissed. It’s intoxicating the way you relax into me instead of pushing me away, further encouraging my actions. I’d expected your kiss to be wonderful, but never so passive. But all you needed, it seems, was my permission, as your tongue is gently but firmly parting my lips to find it’s way into my mouth…oh, take as long as you like with your explorations, my dear. Later perhaps I will have time to be bothered by the amount of experience you are all too willing to exhibit, but right now I’m too busy melting into your expert touch. Your eloquent tongue brushes mine and I gasp, the pit in my stomach settling lower…oh…

Oh God, what are we doing? I spring away, far too late to prevent this folly, flushed with shame while you blink at me uncomprehendingly. After what feels like ages you find your voice.

“Was…was that not what you wanted?” How am I supposed to answer that? I should lie and tell you it wasn’t, that I was just tired and confused and we shouldn’t speak of this again. But I have a perfect idea of how mortified you would be in that case, and I don’t want to do that to you.

“No, it was lovely.”

“Oh. Then why did you pull away?” Shouldn’t the answer be obvious?

“Because it’s wrong and…sordid. For us to kiss like that. I shouldn’t have foisted my own… incorrect urges on you. I’m sorry.”

“What is there that’s sordid about a kiss? It’s not as if we were--”

“Alexander!”

“What?” How is it you can be so quick on with everything elseand yet be so obtuse in this?

“Alexander, that would be…sodomy.” I hate that word. It rips off all disguises and shines a glaring light on truths I’d rather bury forever. 

You just scoff. “Oh, surely an  _ educated _ , enlightened man such as yourself isn’t bothered by such things.”

“I most certainly am!” I realized I shouldn’t say that as it was leaving my mouth. It’s the sort of denial that’s become habit, but I of all people should have known how it would hurt. 

You move as far away from me on our narrow cot as you can get, shame washing over you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“No. I…” How do I tell you that the problem isn’t your audacious suggestion, but how enticing I find it? “How are you not repulsed by the thought of something so unnatural? I can barely stand to be around myself when I fall prey to such…depraved urges. Especially if they regard…someone I love.” I swallow hard against this agonizing honesty. And still you stay away. Of course you would now, whether you’ve come to your senses and see me for what I am or whether you haven’t and the mortification still stings, I can’t imagine you’d want much to do with me. But… “I love you, Alexander. I can’t dishonor you like that.”

“It’s only dishonorable if we get caught.” You grumble petulantly. 

I nearly choke on air. “You know that’s not true.”

“How is kissing dishonorable? It’s harmless. You can be such…such a woman sometimes. Why did this turn into a philosophical analysis of sodomy?” I can hear the frustration in your voice, and the slight tinge of humor behind it, and I shouldn’t be this relieved that you can still see me fondly after what I’ve done.

“You were the one who brought it up. And it is relevant.” 

You heave an exasperated sigh. This is hardly the time for your theatrics. “John, it is precisely because you have taught my heart to set an immense value on you that I kissed you. And I did enjoy it. Did you?” How can you still sound shy? Good Lord, if I wasn’t in this damn state I’d want to kiss you again for it. How can you doubt it?

“Yes, but–”

“Then that’s all there is to it. Besides, there’s much we can do for each other that doesn’t strictly qualify as sodomy. And…do you truly feel you’d be disrespecting me?” Of course I do, how could it have any other implication? My face is all the confirmation you need, apparently, and you’re  _ laughing _ ? Alexander, I fail to see what is so funny about that. “A welcome caress is never an imposition,  _ mon cher _ .”

Damn the way you can cut through my defenses like this! “It’s illegal. We’d forfeit our reputations.”

“Not if we’re careful. And technically, what I’m suggesting is still inside the letter of the law.” Since when has either of us been known for his caution? Since when has anybody cared to apply a strict reading of sodomy laws, for that matter?

“Then our reputations as men of honor would be totally undeserved.” I think I’ve finally managed to get this concept across to you, although why it was so difficult to grasp when all I expressed was the common view, I don’t understand. Though if my reward for saving us from this terrible mess is to be your silent rebuke I’d almost rather have risked it.

“John, we could either of us be killed at any point. Most likely we both will be before this war is over. You know I don’t intend to outlive our hopes for liberty, and you’ve expressed a similar resolution. Those hopes have been growing thinner by the day. Why waste what little time we have on moral quibbles? There will be time enough for that if we succeed.” You reach back over to caress my cheek. Your hand has grown cold since we separated. “And we can limit ourselves to more innocent embraces if you’d prefer.” I had not expected such sober reflections. You’re right of course. What does it matter when compared to the cold and futility? And yet…should we not strive to the highest of standards regardless of whether we’re doomed? 

But your hand is so cold and your tone so pleading, and I know how rare such an extreme is for you, and that, more than any argument you could have presented, convinces me. I pull you tightly to me to protect you from the freezing air, and once again our lips are so close…and I realize it wasn’t you who was hesitating before, it was me. You were just giving me opportunity to decide if I was so inclined. Well, I suppose kisses will warm us better than anything. And you are ever so eager to communicate your fervent agreement on that score. I laugh a little too loudly when you start to drift off with your tongue still in my mouth and you respond with a half-hearted yank at my hair and then a fond and sleepy kiss on my cheek before curling against my chest to sleep. My apprehensions will return with the dawn, but for now, my love, I can sleep peacefully. 


End file.
